Chapter 44

The morning sun slanted through the cabin windows, painting the floor in streaks of gold. I stretched, half-awake, and realized—immediately—that Quinn was still sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, hair messy, hoodie slipping off her shoulder just enough to make me blush.

“…Morning,” I whispered, voice husky and tired, dragging myself upright.

“…Morning,” she replied, voice low, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “…Don’t even think about smiling too much. I’ll notice.”

I grinned anyway, leaning against the doorframe, letting my shoulder brush hers. The reaction was immediate. Quinn stiffened slightly, eyes flicking down, then back to mine, jaw tightening. “…You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“…I know.” I teased, letting my hand linger just a second longer along hers as we passed in the cabin.

Quinn groaned, running a hand through her hair, voice low and breathless. “…You’re going to drive me crazy if you keep doing that.”

“…Maybe that’s the point,” I said softly, smirk tugging at my lips. “…Keeps you on edge.”

Breakfast was chaotic. The campers were loud, the cabin bustling, and somehow—of course—Quinn ended up sitting right across from me. Every glance, every movement, every brush of her hand on the table made my stomach twist. And she knew it. Oh, she knew.

“…Kennedy,” she muttered under her breath when I passed a plate across the table, “…do you have to tease me like that?”

“…Do what?” I asked innocently, leaning a little closer, letting my fingers brush hers in passing. “…Tease you? Never.”

“…You’re so cruel,” she hissed, eyes dark, smirk tugging at her lips. “…I can’t—ugh… you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“…Mm, maybe I do,” I said softly, letting my hand linger just long enough to make her chest hitch. “…Maybe I like seeing you like this.”

Quinn swallowed, hand tightening slightly around the fork she was holding, and I could see it: the struggle between wanting to scold me, boss me, and lose control entirely.

The day dragged on. Between activity periods—waterskiing, canoeing, and lifeguard checks—our proximity was constant. Every time we were forced to share a task, my body kept brushing hers, fingers touching accidentally-on-purpose, shoulders bumping in the most distracting ways.

“…You know,” Quinn muttered during waterskiing prep, hoodie half-draped over her shoulders, “…if you keep leaning like that, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

“…What happens?” I asked, deliberately letting my knee bump hers when I reached for a paddle. “…I think you’d like to tell me.”

“…Shut up,” she hissed, smirk tugging despite herself. “…You know exactly what I mean, and it’s infuriating.”

“…Mm-hmm,” I said, leaning closer as I adjusted my lifejacket, “…that’s the whole point.”

By the time evening rolled around, we were sitting by the lake with the CIT’s, keeping an eye on the campers. But our attention wasn’t on them. It was on each other. Every glance, every accidental brush of fingers, every tiny smirk or subtle teasing comment kept the tension high.

“…You know,” Quinn said finally, voice low, leaning close so only I could hear, “…if you keep flirting like that, I might just have to make you regret it tomorrow.”

“…Oh?” I asked softly, leaning my shoulder against hers, letting my fingers rest on her arm. “…And how would you do that?”

“…You’ll see,” she whispered, smirk tugging at her lips, eyes dark and possessive. “…And trust me, it won’t be gentle.”

I laughed softly, heart racing, letting the warmth of her arm press against mine. “…I think I’m looking forward to it.”

Quinn huffed, but the corner of her lips twitched, betraying that she was just as thrilled as I was.

The lake reflected the last light of the sunset, golden and calm, but between us, the tension simmered hotter than ever.

And I knew, without a doubt: this was only the beginning.